


Build a Pyre

by Northern_Lady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25960384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Lady/pseuds/Northern_Lady
Summary: A Sansa and Hound story in which Sansa considers Cersei’s advice and Ramsay dies a different way. One shot.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 102





	Build a Pyre

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine book Sandor here as he was in his twenties in the original story.

It was three months after Sansa had married Ramsay at Winterfell when she saw him, the hooded stranger in the courtyard. Whoever he was, he was a large man and something about him seemed vaguely familiar. But the stranger couldn’t be the Hound. He just couldn’t. She had heard he was dead and even if he wasn’t dead, Sandor Clegane wouldn’t come to Winterfell. He hated the North. He probably hated her too for all she knew. He had never exactly been kind with her. Not by the normal definition of kindness. Though perhaps he had been kind in his own way. 

She approached him cautiously, somewhat anxious about what she would find. “Excuse me Ser, do I know you?” She asked politely. 

“I am no Ser.” He said and she knew that rasping was voice was his. 

Sansa’s hand flew to her mouth to hold back her sound of surprise. “I heard you were dead.” She heard herself say. 

“Aye, I almost was.” 

“I’m glad you’re not.” Sansa said. 

This seemed to surprise him and he responded gruffly as was his way. “Why would you be glad? Especially after what I did to you? Are you as daft as Cersei claimed you were?” 

“No... no...I...I only meant that… well you never hurt me, even when you could have… and sometimes you helped me when no one else did. I was sad to hear that you had died.” She told him honestly. 

“I was sad to hear that they married you off to the likes of Ramsay Bolton. He’s even worse than the imp. Has he hurt you?” Sandor asked. 

Her eyes filled with tears and she couldn’t speak, she could only nod. 

“Fucking cunt,” Sandor said at that. “Maybe I won’t serve him after all. I thought I’d serve a new lord who the Lannisters are likely to make an enemy of and maybe get to fight my brother in the end. If he hurt you though…” 

Sansa shook her head. “I’m alright. You don’t have to leave on my account,” she said, simply not wanting him to find any excuse not to stay. She wanted him here and she couldn’t entirely explain to herself why.

It was only later that night that she remembered something Cersei had once said, something about using the weapon between her legs. She hated herself for thinking of it. Sansa slipped out of her room to see if she could find Sandor. Ramsay had already used her body and gone back to his own chambers. He didn’t bother locking her in anymore. The front gate was heavily guarded and she couldn’t leave the castle anyway. He figured that letting her wander free by day might make her less resistant at night. In effect it meant that she didn’t try to fight him, she lay limply on the bed until he was done with her. That was the price she paid for being allowed to roam the castle. 

She found Sandor’s room easily enough. This was going to take all the courage she had. She knocked lightly and the door opened a crack and she saw his eyes widen then the door opened further and he pulled her into the room. 

“What are you doing here girl? Ramsay wouldn’t want you visiting my chambers!” He said. 

“I don’t care what Ramsay would want. He’s asleep anyway.” 

“And when he wakes he won’t be too happy.” 

“So what are you going to do about it? ” Sansa asked him as boldly as she dared. 

“Question is, what are you going to do?” Sandor said pointedly. 

“What do you mean?” She asked. He took two steps closer to her so that she was essentially trapped between him and the wall. She thought that perhaps he intended to frighten her but she found that she wasn’t afraid at all, at least not that he would intentionally hurt her. 

“What the fuck were you thinking coming into my room alone?” He rasped, almost angry. His face was as close to hers as it had been the night of the Blackwater. “Did you think you were safe from me just because I helped you once? This isn’t some song Little Bird! I came here to wait out my chance to kill my brother, nothing more. I’m not your true knight and I’m not honorable. You shouldn’t be here…” 

“I’m not afraid of you.” Sansa said meeting his eyes, though she had never been able to look at him before. 

“Everyone’s afraid of me girl and for good reason! You should be too! I’m twice your size and you are a pretty highborn lady. Do you have any idea of what I could do to you?” He said, still angry. 

“Yes..” Sansa whispered. “Better you than Ramsay.” 

Something in his eyes softened at those words and all his anger dissipated. It was Sansa who reached for him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. For a moment he was shocked then he put his arms around her and kissed her in return. She knew she needed to kiss him. No matter how afraid she might be, she truly doubted that Sandor would purposely harm her. He had wanted her once, a long time ago and despite how much she hated Cersei, the woman had been right about a few things. Sometimes women could manipulate men with their beauty and with their body. The Hound was a warrior with a reputation for being good at killing. She had no better opportunity for being free of Ramsay. So she kissed him. What she hadn’t expected was to actually like the kiss a little. Granted, she was still afraid of what would come after the kiss. In fact she was rather terrified but at the moment, the kiss, the way he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her possessively close was comforting in an unexpected way. 

“Seven hells…” he muttered, pulling away from her gently and out of breath. “What are you…?” 

Sansa kissed him again before he could finish that question and she pulled at the hem of his tunic to remove it. He broke away from her briefly to take it off and looked her over with desire in his eyes. Sansa resumed her kisses and let her hands rest against his bare chest. She waited until she could feel his hardness pressed against her before breaking away to remove her robe, then with one hand on his chest she pushed him back towards the bed. He sat, in awe while she pulled her shift off over her head. 

Sansa had been unaware until his gasp of surprise how much damage Ramsay had truly done to her body. 

“What the fuck did he do to you?” Sandor asked in shock. 

Sansa looked down at herself. She was indeed covered in bruises and scratches, even bite marks and puncture wounds. 

“I’m fine,” she said in a near whisper. 

“Fine? There’s nothing fine about this, little bird.” 

“So you won’t kiss me?” 

Sandor said nothing to that. He stood for a moment and pulled aside the covers on his bed which was placed against the wall. “Get in,” he told her. 

Sansa did as bidden. Sandor blew out the candle and climbed into the bed after her. Sansa couldn’t entirely stop herself from trembling when he pulled her close. 

“You’re afraid?” He asked her sadly. 

“Yes,” Sansa admitted with a whisper. There was no denying it anyhow. “But I like it when you kiss me.” She told him. It was the truth and it needed to be said to gain his loyalty. 

Sandor kissed her a while longer and kept her firmly embraced against him until she stopped trembling and began to relax. Sansa expected that once she was relaxed he would take her so she was unable to fully relax. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Sandor told her after a long while, seeming to understand that she was still afraid. “I’m not going to do anything except kiss you unless you ask me to.” 

She realized in that moment that he meant every word of that. Here she was, naked in his bed, trapped between him and the wall, and he would still do nothing without her express permission. The reality of it hit her and she began to cry from thankfulness and relief. This was the safest place she could be and the safest place she had been in years. If Sandor was confused by her tears he said nothing on the matter. He simply held her close and let her cry. 

Sansa hadn’t meant to fall asleep. In truth she had been exhausted for months. Fear had done that to her. Finding a moment of safety brought sleep to her swiftly. She woke in the early hours of dawn to find she was still in the Hound’s bed and in his arms. 

He awoke and brushed his hand across a bruise on her hip where Ramsay had gripped her too tightly. She shuddered at the memory. 

“If you’re afraid, why did you come to me?” He asked her. 

“Because I am an idiot,” She said simply. 

“I doubt it. Why did you come here?” 

“You’ll hate me if I tell you,” she continued. 

He shook his head. “I couldn’t hate you.”

“I came to you for protection. I hoped you’d help me escape or kill Ramsay. I don’t care which.” 

“You could have tried just asking,” he only sounded slightly offended. 

She shook her head. “Life is not a song. You told me that yourself. Knights don’t rescue damsels in distress purely out of honor. They need to get something in return. I came here to offer that. It wasn’t such an easy offer to make after what Ramsay has done to me… but I’m not sorry I did.” 

“You didn’t really answer my question. Why come here if you were afraid? I could probably hurt you more than your cunt husband.” 

“Not on purpose. You wouldn’t hurt me on purpose. I’m already injured though so I was worried that…well, just existing is painful right now…” She explained. 

He sighed. “Even a kiss is painful?” 

“No, it isn’t ,” she told him with a small smile. “It wasn’t.” 

“If you kiss me again, I’ll kill him for you,” he told her seriously. 

“Now, that sounds like something out of the songs,” she said, amused. “You would do it for a kiss?” 

“Aye. For you I would.” 

Sansa hadn’t meant to start crying. In truth, it had been quite a while since she had allowed herself to cry at least until Sandor had come into her life again. The tears just came unbidden. Sandor pulled her into a hug and with him still being shirtless and her being unclothed, it was by far the most intimate hug she had ever known. After a while she kissed him and he kissed her gently in return, allowing his hands to roam her body as he did so. Sansa didn’t know why she not only allowed this but actually enjoyed it. She had assumed that coming here and seeking his help would be a chore, that she was incapable of being close to a man without revulsion, but now that was proving to be entirely untrue. His kisses, his hands on her body were some of the most amazing sensations she had ever known. 

Eventually she felt the bulge in his breeches press against her and made a decision right then that she would do for him whatever she could safely do to see to his needs. A kiss might not be enough to be sure of his loyalty. She reached down and unlaced his breeches and took him in hand. 

“That was more than I asked for, little bird,” he told her huskily after he had finished in her hands. 

“Just make sure it takes a little while to kill him,” Sansa gave as explanation. 

He nodded, spent. “I can do that.” 

“But be careful. I don’t want you to get caught or get hurt. Maybe you’ll have to find him alone somehow.” Sansa said worrying aloud. 

He reached over and rested his hand in her cheek. “Are you worried about me?” He asked, surprised to discover that anyone would do that. 

“Yes,” she admitted in a whisper. She was worried about him. She was apparently incapable of using a man as heartlessly as queen Cersei could have done. She had somehow allowed herself to feel something for him. No, she had felt something for him before she ever came to his room. She just hadn’t wanted to admit it. 

“My sword can do better than his two daggers. I’ll be fine.” 

“But he has a household guard and bannermen and servants to defend him. You’re here alone,” she pointed out, still worried. “I shouldn’t have come here. If he flays you… give me my clothes. I should go before he wakes and finds me here.” 

Sandor left the bed and passed her the clothes she had worn. He turned away while she dressed and put on his own tunic. When she had dressed she went around him to stand in front of him. 

“Don’t worry little bird,” he told her before she could speak. “I can find a way to end him and still escape. Might take a few days but I can manage.” 

She nodded worriedly. She would still have to endure Ramsay for a few more nights. “How many days?” 

He gave her a look. “Does he take his husbandly rights every night?” 

“Usually.” 

He moved to the door and looked over the lock. “The lock on his chambers like this one?” 

“Similar, yes,” she replied curiously. 

“I can break down a door like this one,” he said thoughtfully. “Tonight. It will be tonight.” 

Sansa managed to get out of Sandor's room unseen and if Ramsay had any suspicions of where she had been he never once alluded to them. She was on edge all day though and by evening when her husband planned to take his rights, she was clearly more anxious than usual. 

“You seem rather frazzled tonight, dear wife,” Ramsay said as he sat down on the edge of the bed to remove his boots. 

“No, I’m fine.” 

Ramsay grinned. “Good, then you are up for a little fun.” 

No. She definitely wasn’t up for anything he might consider fun but she couldn’t say that so she said nothing. 

“What are you waiting for? Get undressed.” He told her. 

Sansa was undressed and covered in a sheet and Ramsay was climbing into bed naked when they heard the commotion in the hallway. Swords clashing, shouts of pain, running footsteps, then a heavy weight crashing into the door. Sandor broke through the door in four blows and had a sword at Ramsay’s throat before the man could react. 

“Get up!” Sandor said. 

Ramsay got up warily but grinning as if this whole thing amused him. 

“Out!” Sandor told him nodding towards the door. 

“Fine, but my household guard will rescue me.” 

“Your guards are dead. There are four dead outside the door and the rest are dead out by the stables. No one is rescuing you.” 

“Wait!” Sansa called after them. 

Ramsay bore a look of surprise that she might have a moment of mercy for the likes of him. 

“Give me a moment to dress. I want to see this.” Sansa said. 

After Sansa had dressed, Ramsay was taken out to the courtyard. An X was already erected there. Sandor proceeded to tie Ramsay into place. 

“This is very unlike you Hound,” Ramsay commented as if he weren’t naked in the courtyard and being tied to the posts where he had flayed people in the recent past. “You’ve always been a loyal dog and you’re not known for torture. Who ordered you to do this? The Lannisters?” 

“No,” Sandor had tied his arms in place and he worked on his legs next. 

“Peter Baelish then? He wanted to be Warden here. He must have paid you a great deal. I assure you, I can pay more.” 

“Wasn’t him,” Sandor tied the final knot in place and stood to his feet turning to Sansa. “How do you want this done?” 

“Sansa? It was you?” Ramsay spoke up in actual shock. “How did you convince this brute to kill me? I assume he does plan to kill me?” 

“Didn’t take much convincing once I saw all the bruises you gave her,” the Hound said, not even looking at Ramsay but waiting for Sansa’s decision. 

“All of them? Sansa, you slept with him? I must say, I am impressed,” Ramsay continued. “I thought you much too timid to dare trying your feminine wiles on anyone.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Sandor told him. Then he asked Sansa again. “How does he die?” 

Sansa seemed frozen with indecision. 

“Sansa, it doesn’t have to end like this. We could start over. I could learn to be as loyal to you as your dog is here.” 

“He’s not a dog, and you couldn’t be as good as he is. You’re not capable.” Sansa spat the words at him. 

Realization dawned on Ramsay. “You’re not just using him. You actually care for this beast. When is Seven Hells did that happen? When you were a Lannister prisoner?” 

“It doesn’t matter when,” Sansa told him. “You’re going to die today Lord Bolton.” 

“Clegane, you can’t kill me. Sansa will miss me. Every time she’s in bed with you, she’ll think of me,” Ramsay taunted. 

Sandor stiffened his stance but he didn’t move. 

“He’s just trying to provoke you into killing him quickly,” Sansa said. 

“I know, little bird. I know. I could gut him. Take a while to bleed out that way.” 

“Little bird?” Ramsay spoke up again. 

“How long?” Sansa asked Sandor. 

“Minutes. Hours. Don’t know.” 

Sansa shook her head, not approving this idea. “Let’s build a pyre. Burn him.” 

Sandor nodded and headed off to gather wood. 

“Sansa, wait. The least you could do is give me a quick death. I may not have been the best husband but I could have been so much worse.” 

“You could have been better,” Sansa told him. 

Sandor returned with an armload of wood followed by Theon Greyjoy who brought a load of wood as well. Several other members of the household began adding to the pile.

“All of you?” Ramsay asked as people of his household added wood. 

“That’s what happens when you’re cruel to your people,” Sansa said. 

“A firm hand isn’t cruelty. Do you feel proud of yourself for becoming a whore to get me killed?” Ramsay asked her. The wood had been pilled so high around him that it reached almost to his chest. 

“I didn’t even sleep with him,” Sansa said. “I did offer but once he saw the bruises he didn’t accept. He didn’t want to hurt me. You’re more of a beast than the Hound is. You can go to your grave proud of that if you like but I don’t care because at least you’ll be dead.” 

Sansa lit the pyre herself and she didn’t look away while the fire burned and while he screamed. 

“You’re the Lady of Winterfell now,” Theon said when Ramsay finally went quiet and still. The fire still burned. “What will you do first?” 

Sansa turned and threw her arms around Sandor and kissed him. 

Theon pulled her aside later that evening after the pyre had finally burned out. “Are you alright Sansa? Are you sure you’re any safer with the Hound than with Ramsay?” He asked, concerned for her. 

“I am. I’m sure of it,” she tried to assure him. “Sandor would never hurt me. He never has, and he kills the people who do. He did so in Kingslanding and here.” 

“Then will you marry him?” 

“If he’ll have me, I would,” Sansa admitted. “He hasn’t asked.” 

“I’ll tell him you said that and he will ask,” Theon said, and began to wander away. 

“Why would you do that?” Sansa called after him. 

“To make sure you stay safe and happy.” 

Sansa let him go. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to have Theon arrange her marriage. Maybe this one would turn out happy in the end.


End file.
